


On Meeting An Inquiry Agent (unfinished)

by Lady_Noremon



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 12:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17182664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Noremon/pseuds/Lady_Noremon
Summary: In late 2013-early 2014 I wrote some quick snippets of Lorel & Alfred back when they first met. I never finished these, and I probably won't. Been thinking of it lately so decided to upload them here.





	1. 'Your trousers are wet.'. It was a statement, a completely true but unexpected statement. The young man turned and grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted on [LiveJournal](https://ls-cassius.livejournal.com/35356.html) on July 30TH, 2014 @ 01:08AM]
> 
> [Since it seems more unlikely (especially given my laptop difficulties) that I'll finish the 3RD part or work on the 4TH (introduction to Robin), I figure I might as well post this here as well. Around Christmas I started trying to write 2 pages a part (short & manageable!) of Lorel meeting Alfred and what-not. I wanted to get out of my 'Sentence. Sentence. Sentence.' thing that I've fallen into (which annoys me), and just to write something no matter how poor quality I thought it was (I've had other things I've wanted to write, but I can't get into the mindset for it.). But anxiety & the pointlessness feelings are so that I don't feel I have the capacity to write any more.
> 
> Originally posted on December 20TH, 2013 [@](http://ladys-rambles.livejournal.com/2013/12/20/) 10:14PM, January 6TH, 2014 [@](http://ladys-rambles.livejournal.com/2014/01/06/) 04:14AM, & June 14TH, 2014 [@](http://ladys-rambles.livejournal.com/2014/06/14/) 02:39PM  
>  _This is how Lorel & Alfred met. I have ideas for, and used to think of writing out little adventures they had as partners, but I doubt I ever will. But this part here is about their first meeting. For those that don't know; Alfred is Lorel's spouse that was murdered, and also was her teacher & partner at the inquiry agent office they set-up (L & A). His murder was the reason she started her quest for vengeance, and why she took on the persona of L.S. Cassius & went to The 'Neath/London.]_

**\-----PART[#1](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%231)\-----**  
  
  
It was mid-September in 1879, and Lorel Lumbry was begrudgingly trying to get her boots on & tied to go out. She didn't  _want_  to go out, days of rain having left the air damp, and that dampness was bothering her knee. He uncle had requested it though, and she did see his reasoning in it. It was better for the business of gaining contracts, if the one seeking it showed themselves as friendly. So for the merchant's niece to attend a local gathering, it would show that that even his family was friendly. Lorel did not care much for salons or parties or any of that business, often finding them lonely places, or having to deal with either questions or scorn. Lorel was not much of a lady, that seemed to most of the public to be ' _odd_ '. She was not interested in marriage, did not wear a corset, often wore her hair loose, and preferred the clothing of men. She medically was advised against wearing a corset (having a limp had thrown-off things), but many did not know that--unless they started on questions. She didn't even look like much of a woman. She is slight, and boney in places she'd rather not be. Her hips were those of a young man, and the only womanly feature at first glance would be her breasts. So at the times when she chose to bind them back, she could pass quite well bodily for a boy. Well except for her long, somewhat curled, hair. Bright ginger, long, somewhat curled, hair.  
  
All of this would not be as 'dreadful' if not for that knee. Some men like handsome women, and some like cleverness. But Lorel Lumbry was often treated with a sort of scorn because she could be called ' _crippled_ '. Or worse she would get pity. These things were because much of the public considered Miss Lumbry unable to be married, and-unless they knew it was an old injury-unsuitable to bear children. Again; both things were not something Lorel had interest in, but it became in the least an annoyance when she'd attend something sociable and hear the related whispers. “ _...burden to her uncle..._ ”, “ _Poor child!_ ”, “ _...she stay unseen?_ ”. Lorel at times would like to beat them with her walking-stick.  
  
As she left the inn, she was relieved that 'in the least' the ground had dried which made the small walk easier. As much as she did not want to attend, she also could not be disgruntled with her uncle. She knew he would have also been attending if he was not in meetings, and given that she was his only heir she would do what she could to help the business. And even if the business wasn't connected, she would still do it for Uncle Frederick. She had chosen to wear a milky tea coloured dress, with just enough white & pale blue pieces to be dressy. Her hair was pinned-up, but tendrils hung in places. She had also chosen to wear men's travel boots. Lorel spent the first while there taking in punch and trying to move about avoiding most conversation. She was trying to put on a sociable persona, but just couldn't seem to settle into it. It was becoming better to just not talk than to have an annoyed tone seep into her voice.  _No, and, no. She was not born deformed._  After that answer she gripped her hand on the handle and moved to stand by the fireplace. At least she could avoid the lingering damp, if she couldn't calm her personality. It was on her way over that she saw a young auburn haired man already there, leaning on the mantle with an arm holding punch.  
  
He seemed to be enjoying this gathering as much as she was. His eyes in a dazed look, and more enjoying the warmth and waiting until he could leave than anything. When he saw this young woman coming closer he grimaced, and left the mantle to turn around. He stared into the fire as if hoping she wasn't planning on speaking to him. Because of this she kept coming closer--it would be far better company than she was having. He had taken note that this woman was not the typical sort that wanted to talk to him, the kind that knew of his family and that he was a bachelor. It had become an increased problem since his brother had become engaged, and since there were rumours that he had chosen an almost disgraceful vocation to follow. Meaning that someone might have to hurry before he loses favour with his parents and the favour of their money. This red haired woman had a cane, and obviously was not wearing a corset; walking without the bit of sway that comes with one. For a moment he thought maybe that he should give her a chance to speak before throwing his opinion on her, “ _Assumptions are unwise._ ” after all, but he had already had a bothersome evening and was not in the mood to have more. He opened his mouth to firmly say “ _I'm not available._ ” when she plainly said “ _Your trousers are wet._ ”. It was a statement, a completely true but unexpected statement. The young man turned and grinned.  
  
Lorel had a tired look on her face, but her eyes softened at this man's grin. His eyes were a bright green, but a warmer shade than she was used to seeing. His teeth showed, and the way his cheeks went was well too. She took a better look at him. He was rather short, only a little bit taller than her. His suit was simple but of good quality, a nice deep brown colour. He had an odd complexion which was not as pale as his physical build would suggest. But his hair was even more odd. It was short but seemed as if it was trying to curl or escape his head, and Lorel had an urge to reach out and try smoothing it down. At this thought she shock her head and made a face. The gentleman was taking a better look at her too, but neither really knew how to begin with further conversation. Then he started laughing and introduced himself.  
  
His named was Alfred Cassius, and was in that town on business of his own. After she introduced herself, and surprised (and further impressed) him a bit about being a shipping merchant's heir, they made their way to a sofa to talk more. He had had a bit of a scuffle earlier and fallen over into a spot that was still more marsh than solid ground. He had managed to get the front part of his trousers dry by the fire, but-as she had noticed-the backs were still wet. He had hoped the dark brown would hide it a bit better. Alfred facinated Lorel with his talk of being a private detective, and how clever she was kept facinating him. She wasn't the typical sort to talk to him at all, and through as her first statement had shown she was forward, she wasn't trying to get his whole family status out of him. She was genuinly just interested in his vocation. He had never been able to expond on it before, not even to his older brother whom wasn't disapponted in him. Said brother was going to be a constable, which was lower than his position but still a noble calling. “ _Detectives are mostly a scam._  his mother often said. Alfred hated having to rely on his parents, yet “ _I'm not fool enough to follow poverty too._ ” (he almost said ' _not noble enough_ ' but didn't want to for Lorel). He admitted to feeling stuck. He was trying to seek his life, but had to maintain the funds to do so from his status. And yet that status could at time damage his reputation. Have him taken for a man with too much money & too much spare time that was merely playing at work. Lorel asked him about his tan then, and brought another grin. Alfred bunched his hands up to study his knees and explained how he actually was travelling about all summer for work. Then chanced to mention his foreign grandfather (many thinking the 'Cassius' is of the very old German immigrant kind). She told him of the Wilhelmina Vrabec woman who raised her. And then he asked why Mila & Uncle Frederick had raised her. When she told him, he frowned a moment, then stood-up and bowed rather dramatically toward the refreshments. She watched as his silly hair flounced around when he did so.  
  
Lorel didn't sit all dainty, with having to move to fold a bustle down. Alfred watched as she eased herself down with her cane, a plate of cakes, and a little puff of air. She stretched her legs out, and he noticed the men's travel boots. He smiled but wanted to ask her about her limp. After they had talked another hour (her eating with pure enjoyment), and made plans to meet tomorrow, he decided that she'd tell him about it in her own time--if she wanted him to know. He knew some people were bothered by ailments as such, and that usually didn't bother him enough not to ask. But with Lorel it was as different as she was. And after the gathering he decided that it didn't really matter in pursuing a friendship he thoroughly planned on pursuing.


	2. After she had sat down, letting the cup warm into her fingers, inhaling the tea's steam, she finally snorted and told her uncle of her evening.

**\-----PART[#2](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%232)\-----**  
  
It was later than expected when Lorel arrived back at the inn after too long of a farewell; the kind where one person says they had best go, the other agrees, and then they both continue on. Frederick asked her if she had fallen asleep by the fire, because that was the most logical reason he could think of. It was something that had occurred before, especially when she had raided the refreshments & was feeling unsociable. She'd sit down to warm her joints, her stomach full of cakes & punch, and slowly doze off (This problem was also why they had stopped attending church). When she responded that she hadn't, he asked her the reason then as his Lorrie disliked lying. “ _Mr. Alfred Cassius_  & “ _detective!_ ” were what he caught of her response. She was doing what she tends to do when excited, moving up-and-down on her feet with a rocking motion, her hands in the pocket of her coat. Frederick knew whatever had kept her was good, and well, and he gave a soft smile. He tended to see her as his little Lorrie, the small girl he had taken in and used to carry around on his shoulders. Lorel was almost as tall as him now, and taller than Mila. A 17 year-old young woman. He often wondered what Samuel & Emily would have thought of who their daughter had become. Sam would be proud she had his hair, he was almost certain of that. He thinks his brother would make jokes that at least Lorel got her mother's looks--even though Lorel often gave his same expressions. At first Frederick had kept hope that Samuel had survived the shipwreck, but Emily never did (a less desirable trait Lorel inherited). She was a very pragmatic, if sentimental woman, and one that is still very missed. She was a good match for Sam, and though she never met him, and only had her mother for a short time, Frederick sees both of them in Lorel. And at times that makes him melancholy, but more often it makes him smile. This fidgeting was all her own though. He ruffles her hair & tries asking again. When he gets around the same response, he laughs then leads her to the inn's kitchen to order some tea. This must be something very good, and well indeed.  
  
After she had sat down, letting the cup warm into her fingers, inhaling the tea's steam, she finally snorted and told her uncle of her evening. Very good, and very well. He knew she was often lonely, what personal interactions she does attempt regularly not lasting because of moving around, or his poor niece's trouble letting people in close. He blames himself for both, having let her deal with the awful school system most of her younger years, and taking her with him for work once she'd gotten older. Still travelling was at least better than feeling like he had left her in their village. Even though dear Mila & Lorel were extremely close, it seemed awful to make her stay in a small village without much stimulation. She had learned the Lumbry family business quickly, and she had a better insight to clients than he did. He thought of her not being his heir ridiculous, and got far angrier than he should when people would dismiss the status he gave his niece. Even thinking on it made the pit of his stomach flop, as he looked over at the young lady smiling into her milk tea; How could someone thing she was 'less than'? He was glad that she had seemed to have a nice evening. He ventured to ask her more about this 'Mr. Cassius' and was surprised to find that he was only around a year older than Lorrie. He had expected she had met an older gentlemanly sort, which were one of the few types she could converse with if they didn't seem bothered that she was a woman. Lorel was rather patriotic (but did not see war as glorious), and though a great deal of the population considered Queen Victoria a traitor for trading all of London for Albert, Lorel was still loyal to her. Another of Emily's traits. Lorel had been born not long after London had been pulled under, and yet that woman still chose to give her daughter “ _a name of the empire_ ”. Frederick rarely called Lorel by her forename however, and luckily Lorrie seemed to find 'Sabitha' just as silly. Samuel was a merchant captain, true, but he had never even been to India! Still Emily had named her daughter 'Sabitha' to honour her late-husband. Lorel rarely made stable friendships with children-people-her own age. And this Mr. Cassius was also often travelling, so it was very likely that they could meet up often. This was a very good sign that this might lead to a lasting association, but Frederick knew the girl probablt had already thought this herself, so he decided not to say anything. Lorel did not like to put much blind faith in anything without further facts or experiences, and one several hour conversation with a gentleman that also travelled a lot did not completely mean they could continue a strong friendship. She had that wavering look on her face though (lips pursed, eyes downcast), so he knew that she was hoping, and then fighting with herself for doing so, and then scolding herself for not being happy with how things were. Years of children pretending to be her friends just to mock her, and pragmatism making her worried about how to proceed, and a bit of fear that she shouldn't. Knowing that she was close to withdrawing into her thoughts, Frederick decided to try changing the subject. He knew she was still very excited, and he wanted her to stay that way. He hoped to get her off to bed before her doubts infringed on her happiness. Already he could see her eyes glazing over with the day catching-up, the slacker way she was starting to hold her cup, so a different topic and then she should be able to drop right off to sleep. “ _S'how...Do you plan to join me tomorrow?_ ” But the conversation went back to Mr. Cassius, this time the good fact that she would have to decline that client meeting because him & Lorrie had made plans for lunch. This plan was a good fact that Lorel could hold onto; he wouldn't have made plans if he didn't enjoy the evening as much as she did. And he had given her his temporary lodging address, which she could confirm, so this was something to snap her out of worries. She could find him by his business or where he was staying if he did not show-up outside of the building of that night's gathering. So Lorel was more cheerful again and the next subject of the client Uncle Frederick was dealing with was welcomed. Business seemed to be going well, and after another meeting Frederick expected that he'd be allowed to inspect what transports & stock he was getting involved with. Though Frederick was the head of his business, him & his heir both had been wanting to add more greenhouses to the operations. If things went as planned, this could lead to a site, but the client was not quite receptive to a West Country merchant. They both avoided mentioning that aspect however, as it left a bitter taste in both of their mouths.  
  
Lorel went easily to sleep that night, after another quickly drunk cup of tea. She did not dream anything lasting, but her good mood made her rest peaceful, and uninterrupted. The peace was so deep that she slept in late, and Frederick had to request on of the inn's staff to wake her. He was torn between wanting to let her rest, and not wanting her to miss this meeting with that Mr. Cassius. She got dressed quickly, and after consulting the time decided to just have tea to sustain her before the next meal. She had been trying to gain weight, but she did not want to ruin the appetite she managed to have with her nerves. Frederick took her hand & ruffled her hair before she left to reassure her. Most women would be furious at someone distressing their hairstyles, but though Lorel often made a face he knew she was glad for the familiar contact. They both knew that he could never fully be her father when he remembered his brother so well, just as Mila wasn't fully her mother because Lorel remembered Emily, but that was the best place that their familial relationship fit, and they enjoyed that comfort. She made a snorting noise out of her nose, smiled, and hurried-off.  
  
Alfred Cassius was leaning against the door frame of the community hall, trying to calm his nerves, but also in an attempt to appear dashing if that interesting Miss Lumbry did arrive. He wasn't quiet sure why he was so nervous as he was rather skilled at dealing with people, even more so since taking-up his vocation. Still his eyes got very wide when he saw her round the corner, and up the drive. She had most of her red hair down today, in a way that mostly only young children would, but it seemed to suit her and was a brilliant shade in the sunlight. She had worn a more practical dress in a slate blue, and the same even more practical boots. He was wearing a heavy linen suit in a colour that was closer to hessian than anything. He had really tried to settle his hair down, but as he was waiting he could feel pieces of it springing out from where he had wet & combed it. Alfred waited until she greeted him until he strode up with a grin. The bother were nervous at first with various stop and starts of 'ahh' & 'um', but once they got into talking it was just as if they had merely paused their previous conversation. There was nothing to be nervous about after all.  



	3. 'This is small, so the staff might have to launder items themselves. Larger establishments-or well to do-contract out. Or we are thought foolish.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Part 3 was going to lead into them exchanging letters and meeting whenever they were in the same area. And part 4 was going to be her meeting Robin and him being so amused at the type of woman his brother 'brought home', and how they formed a little group of detective siblings.]

**\-----PART[#3](https://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%233) (unfinished)-----**  
  
The establishment wasn't what he was generally used to, but it was around what he was becoming used to. The sort of place that always has hearty, filling food, but just has a vague 'claret' for wine, and 'white' on special occasions. She didn't order wine, and it surprised him when she admitted she “ _didn't much care for_ ” it. She ordered cider, which made him smile at the 'West Country' style of it (and inwardly chiding himself remembering her talking on how difficult being stereotyped is). She went on that a wine seller had just set-up in her village [which was not where she was actually born (the city of Manchester), but was the place she considered her homeland] not many years ago, and her family had not developed a great taste for it [But years later the low cost of mushroom wine would lead to her drinking more of it]. Alfred's grandfather was foreign, and though he spoke that his father tried to shed any custom in favour of climbing British society, wine on the table was something that still carried on. He missed his grandmother, but had never met his grandfather. Robert-whom he explained was his older brother-had been born before the senior Roberto Cassius had died, but he had not. The 'Roberto' name was a tradition, the firstborn sons giving it to their firstborn sons. Roberto Cassius the junior had shown his dropping of the foreignness by dropping the 'o' for his firstborn, and that Robert had taken to being called 'Robin' anyway. Alfred gave a sad laugh at recalling his grandmother always calling them " _Robin & Alfie_". And of her teaching her grandsons her husband's language and customs behind her son's back. He'd gotten her auburn hair which his mother hated, but he was fond of (Mostly because it was a way to remember her by). Most of his family was a sort of blond, even his father's rubbish moustache grew blond. His mother had a dark black which she had even began tinted to keep it that way despite Alfred's suspicion it was going grey. He asked her about where her bright ginger hair had been inherited from, and received a scrunched-up nose & frown in reply. It was from her father--whom she never met but that she was told she favoured her looks from. Except she had her mother's eyes & rounder face, Lorel's voice soft and on the verge of cracking at speaking of her mother that she only remembers vague feelings & the scent of, but that she misses so terribly. Lorel hates to admit that she feels this way, pulling on a 'strong' cloak for it. It is a pain that in 15 years has not faded, the early confusion slipping away, but the sharpness still being there. It wasn't that her family had discouraged grieving as others would, but it was something she had not really done especially at such being used as a weakness by other children & adults. Lorel says none of this however, just going quiet for a moment, examining her glass. Alfred doesn't know how to respond, not having to be a detective to hear the tone. He feels a small creep of fear, wondering if he has spoilt their conversation & the mood. Should he comfort her? Is that too forward? If she were a client he'd reach over and take her hand, but a client is rarely seen again after a case, and this Miss Lumbry is so  _interesting_  he plans for future contact. He decides to be brave and reach over, but stops when he hears the clink noise and the tap at his elbow. He's knocked over his wine, the liquid splashing gently, flowing in a trail across the table. They both rush to stick their napkins down, the reaction time almost synchronised in the speed. The deep red mess being added to by a theft of other table's napkins. When the server returns they seem very unhappy, but with a great effort of Britishness, wordlessly sits the plates down and scoops the napkins onto the empty tray. There is a feeling that the server's delay in bringing more wine is deliberate to express their annoyance. " _This is small, so the staff might have to launder items themselves. Larger establishments-or well to do-contract out. Or we are thought foolish._ " That lovely grin again, and the air seems to have improved.  
  
They both have healthy appetites, but Lorel eats with a look of relish that one would not expect from a woman of her build. The roasted pork is as satisfying as most often is from these types of establishments, and brings the nostalgic sense in the stomach. Their conversation changes to more on Alfred's vocation, and it's something that she is enraptured with. 'Detective work' had never been something she had put many thoughts on before, and still might not have if Mr. Cassius did not have such joy when he spoke of it. This was something he was proud of, and that he was devoting his life to, with such a prospect being happy more than daunting. And even happiness in that the task was daunting. It is very hard to not admire someone who can follow a path so whole-heartedly, that knows the facts of what that paths brings, and the problems, yet continues because of capability & happiness. And it is because Alfred knows the status problems, and the difficulties, along with how proud he is that Lorel cannot help but be a little charmed.


End file.
